


Still Library

by Rogueinsomniac



Series: Literati [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, M/M, Prequel, akaken, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogueinsomniac/pseuds/Rogueinsomniac
Summary: The Prequel to Literati.Akaashi and Kenma's story and everything leading up to the beginning of Literati.Still- deep silence or calm~~~~~I met Akaashi Keiji when I was fifteen the day after my mother had died. She told me that when she finally passed that she wanted me to spend the day where all her best memories were. That at the library maybe I would find something to bring me peace after her passing. I couldn't possibly know at that moment how lovely October could truly be. I never believed in fate till I met him. Standing in front of me beautiful as ever, my guardian angel. My true love.~~~~~
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma
Series: Literati [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159484





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read Literati that book comes after this but even though this book is set before you should read Literati first. Though you can do whatever you want. It's just my recommended order. Obviously if you've read Literati you should know exactly how this ends, this isn't for the ending rather for the story in general.

**Kenma Pov **

Mid October... My mother's funeral service was far too long, with far too many people crying. Had she really known all those people? They surely didn't know her enough since I had never seen them before and she spent most of her time with me... How could they all be so sad over someone they had such little connection too? I should be the only one crying. They don't deserve to cry. It was my mother after all. I had no one else. I would live alone now. I was going to continue to be alone for the next how ever many days until I pass as she did. I was alone and going to fulfill my last promise to my mother. 

She has asked me to go to the library for her. The library was always important to her. She cared about books more than anyone I had ever known. She used to read to me every day when I was little. My mother was a wonderful woman with a passion for literature, like I had never known. Eventually I enjoyed books, but not much more than anything else. They were important to me though... mostly because they reminded me of her. 

She asked me to go to the library the day after she passed. She told me to find peace at the library. That maybe something would be helpful for me there. She was always one for fate and magic. I think she felt more like a fortune teller than anything telling me to do this. It was something I had not wanted to do. I didn't want to go to the library after she dies. I didn't want to go without her. I didn't understand why this would be her last one request... No matter the reason she had asked me to go, I went. 

I went to the Library alone, always alone. I felt better that way, especially now. I took a book off the shelf and sat to read at a table in the corner of the library where I would most likely avoid the other people. As long as other people didn't talk to me I would probably be okay during this trip. I would deem today a success if no contact was held.

I spent an hour reading the book had chosen. One I had read several times and continued not to get sick of. It felt like an homage to my mother more than anything reading there alone with a book she loved. I felt very sad without my mother there, reading alone. I missed her. She was a very kind woman with kind eyes and a face to match. My mother was amazing in more ways than one and I wished I had told her that.

"May I sit here?" I looked up to see a boy with the bluest stormy eyes I had ever seen and the most gorgeous curled black hair. He looked stunning. He was very picturesque with his blue sweater and jeans. Straight out of a novel with his deep eyes and reading glasses. He pulled off comfortable in a way I wouldn't dare. 

I was staring for far too long and immediately turned back to my book. "I won't stop you." He took the chair next to me and sat rather close, as to not be near the people close to us. I glanced over to see what he was reading. He was holding a book by the same author I was. 

"Do you like Jane Austen?" Was he talking to me again? Why? Did I give off I vibe? I sure hope I didn't. Please leave me alone, I'm sad, mourning my mother, and hate to talk, especially now.

I kept my eyes on my book. "My mother did." My mother loved all things classic literature and because of that I've gotten into it. Not on purpose but it's how it turned out.

"Oh. So is this your first time?" Of course not. Do I look uncultured? 

I could tell he was looking at me with the kind of intense eyes you'd see on someone judging you. I didn't think he was judging me though, not with the presence he gave off. "I've read it before." Both our answers and questions were were blunt. It was an odd way of speaking. I had never had someone reciprocate my speech patterns before.

"Well it's a good book." He said that and then stopped talking for a long while. In fact he stopped talking to me in general and just read his book. It was odd having such a short conversation with him. Most people tried to talk to me for too long before giving up, but he didn't look like he gave up. He just looked like he had finished what he had to say. 

I spoke once more, "You know there are a lot of other seats." He really didn't have to sit here. I mean... why would he sit next to me? There are lot's of open places to sit. Lot's of other people in the library too.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Should I move?" I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure I sounded annoyed. He was being so nice too and I must sound incredibly rude. 

I'm sure this is not what my mother wanted when she told me to come here but I continued, "Why are you sitting here? I mean... you didn't have to." I tried my best to speak normally. I was a bit uncomfortable sitting next to him. He was very very pretty and had no business with me. It was immensely awkward.

"I just assumed you wouldn't hit on me. That's all." Oh... I get that completely. I feel a bit embarrassed for asking now. 

"Right. Of course. I won't." I spoke quickly wanting the conversation to be over immediately. For the boy next to stop talking to me. To go home alone and continue to be alone. 

"I appreciate it."


	2. Chapter 2

** Keiji Pov **

The boy next to be looked incredibly sad somehow. I wasn't sure why but it made me want to say something. That was very out of character for me, reaching out. I don't know why I feel such a need to talk to this boy but it's genuinely bugging me that he looks like that. Tired, depressed and yet overall incredibly well put together. He's wearing a collard shirt and slacks. Who wears that to a library? 

I had never seen him in the library before. Maybe he went on week nights? He doesn't look like this is his first time, however. Not with where he sat and how well he fits in with the crowd. I think I wouldn't have noticed him if I was paying less attention. Why am I so concerned with him? 

There was no reason for me to be looking at the boy with poorly dyed hair but I was so enveloped with my thoughts of him that I couldn't think of my book any longer. I wonder why he dyed his hair like that. It's an odd choice. Was it once completely blonde? Was the length intentional? He looks like the kind of person to hide behind his hair but maybe I'm just analyzing him too much. 

He occasionally would look over at me, which I of course noticed. I was trying not to look at him. My eyes were glued to my book and I'm sure I looked intense but it was all I could do to keep from looking at him. 

I had some kind of small obsession with the sad way he looked. It put me in a kind of pain I wasn't quite used to. It intrigued me.

Before I left I did something that must be a surprise to both him and I. I wrote down my phone number on a yellow post-it. And directly under that I wrote- 

_"You looked sad, let me know if you want to talk. Feel better._

_-Akaashi Keiji"_

I left as soon as I gave him the note, not looking at him the entire time out of either nerves or the realization that I was supposed to be home and was rushing. I don't know why I had just done that. Maybe I felt guilty for just watching him feel the way he did and not doing anything about it. Not that I had ever felt bad about something like that before. I usually found people's emotions a bit annoying and overwhelming. 

I shouldn't have given him that note. I shouldn't have sat next to him. I know that. But something about him was pulling me to him and I couldn't stop my feet. I couldn't stop my hands. I just did it. I had gone on auto pilot and spoken to the very sad boy in formal attire at the back of the library. 

And when I arrived back home I had a new message from an unknown number. 

(xxx)-xxx-xxx

**Unknown:**

Hi. Is this Akaashi? 

_Is this... the boy from the Library?_

**Akaashi:**

This is Akaashi. 

**Unknown:**

Oh. Okay. 

I'm Kenma. The one from the library. 

The one you gave your number to. 

_I've never been so glad to get a text before. I felt less awkward since he had taken up my offer._

**Akaashi:**

I remember. 

Did you want to talk? 

_I don't know what I wanted from him or what he wanted from me. The two of us seemed entirely the same in our want not to speak. So why now were both of us breaking that obvious rule._

**Kenma (Library):**

Not really. I just thought I'd text you so you had my number. 

**Akaashi:**

Oh- well if you change your mind... 

**Kenma (Library):**

Okay. Thank you... for the note. 

I wasn't aware I looked so sad. 

**Akaashi:**

Oh. I could just tell. 

If it makes you feel better I think I was the only one noticing. 

**Kenma (Library):**

Okay. 

Anyways... thank you. I'm going to keep reading 

**Akaashi:**

Phones aren't allowed in the library. 

**Kenma (Library):**

... Then don't say anything to the Librarian. 

**Akaashi:**

Okay. 

Maybe I'll see you later. 

**Kenma (Library):**

Probably not- but maybe. 

Bye then.

I don't know why I gave him my number or why I responded so casually but everything about him felt familiar. It shouldn't have. We had just met but when I saw him I just I knew him. Not as if we had met previously but in a different hard to describe way. It was an odd feeling to have, remembering something you've never seen. 

But he... Kenma, was so very familiar. He was just missing from my memory was all. Just something I must have forgotten and somehow lived without. 

I wanted to see him once more. I had a very strong desire to talk to him again and find out why he looked the way he did, when we met. It was wrong to feel this way about a stranger or anyone really. It felt unnatural to me. It was very new and uncomfortable. If I could just talk to him once more, I thought, then maybe I would stop this odd desire. This unnatural want to know him. 

I would later go to the library for several weeks without any appearance from him. He was completely vanished not that I had tried to contact him. I had shown up most days expecting to see him though, it truly must have been a one time thing. I had never seen him before and I would not see him now. He was truly a ghost and I had been starting to think I had imagined him. 

Is the boy I've been thinking about really not true? I haven't seen him. Not once. A three week period is a long time to go without an appearance. Does he not live around here? If I've never seen him before and then just once I saw him... is he not from here? Was that really the last time I would see him? Is that why his last response was so odd?

That all might have been true, until he appeared before me once more, and the familiar feeling of desire bubbled up inside of me yest again. I had not gotten over this need to speak to him. That stayed present till the very end.


	3. Chapter 3

** Kenma Pov **

I had spent 3 weeks all alone, moving into an apartment of my choice, very close to the library surprisingly. My house had felt very empty with just me. My mom brought a lot of life to our home, but now that she was not here it all felt cold. I started to hate where I lived, and sold the house. It was a struggle being fifteen and selling a house. But with my papers all in order they had no right to refuse me. So I now have an apartment under my name after a very difficult process. 

After finally moving in I went back to the library. I had been drawn to that place since my mother died. It was the last place that felt like home to me. Like she was still there. It was all warm. I enjoyed that feeling. It was one I had lost along with her. 

When I got to the library I instinctively went to the back after getting the book I wanted. I was met with gorgeous eyes colored blue and grey, in a stormy manner, staring back at me. Akaashi. I had had that name stuck in my head since I met him. Akaashi. It was a rememberable name and it went well with his face. He, an undeniably attractive boy, was staring blankly at me. He was caught off guard. 

I pointed next to him. "Can I sit here?" I asked him watching his expression for any uncertainty or signs of doubt.

"I won't stop you." He pulled out my chair for me. He was still surprised. "I wasn't expecting to see you again after you had been gone for so long." Oh. Was he looking for me then?

"Oh. Something came up." 

All he did was nod. "Okay." He continued reading, clearly done with our conversation. Something about him was off putting yet very intriguing. I had somewhat hoped he would continue to talk. He didn't seem like the type of person to talk to you without a reason nor did he seem like he conversed for friendly appearances. He seemed cold but I could also tell he was nervous with me sitting next to him. I felt like I should be talking but I didn't have anything to say. 

The both of us stayed awkward for another hour reading and avoiding any type of contact. I felt the need to look at him so badly it was physically painful. The fact that I didn't know what was going on in his head was eating me up. I always knew what everyone was thinking all the time, so why is that not the case here? He's just unreadable. 

So I asked, "What are you thinking?" I regret saying that out loud.

Akaashi moved in his seat as if he was startled by my words but not enough for anyone else to notice. "I'm sorry?" He looked up from his book at me. 

Even startled he looked blank. Why was he so hard to figure out? "I've been sitting here for the past I don't know how long looking at you and wondering what you could possibly be thinking about that you hide so well. It's seriously irritating." He's still doing it. He's looking at me with no expression on his face and I don't know why I care so much that I can't read him.

"What is?" 

You. "Why don't I know what you're thinking? You're so expressionless." Why is it just him? I can read everyone so easily. I've spent years doing it, so why him? More importantly why does it irk me like it does?

And all he did was relax at my words. Everything he did felt different for entirely no reason that I could see. "Oh. I was wondering how to talk to you but I guess you made that easy." ...He was wondering how to talk to me? For what?

"What?" 

He looked at if he could have been smiling if he tried harder but he wouldn't put in the effort. "I wanted to talk to you but I wasn't sure what to say to make it not awkward." He wanted to speak with me. None of that showed on his face.

There was no way I could have seen that he wanted to talk to me. "You have no look on your face to indicate to me that that is what you want. Everyone has that... but you don't. Why don't you?" He finally closed his book and turned toward me. That means we're conversing. Why is that what we're doing? Why am I talking?

He tilted his head to the side, "I don't know what you mean." Of course not.

He put his legs over the side of the chair to face me completely instead. He looked at my face instead of my odd cross-legged sitting position. He hardly seemed to care about what I was wearing doing or anything else besides my words. "It's annoying. I want to know what's going on in your head but your eyes, your expression, none of your body language is giving me any hints." I can't tell what about you is even different and that annoys me. 

His blank stare became a habit as he spoke. "Do you look at all of that usually?" In every person I see I know what they're thinking because of all of that. I've relied on that for communication for 15 years.

"Yes." 

"Then I'm sorry." I've talked so much that he's apologizing now. Why am I talking to this stranger for so long? He doesn't care that I can't read him so why am I telling him? 

I need to shut up. "I- have no idea why I'm talking so much to you. I'm going to stop talking now." How had I said so much and talked so comfortably with him? He who I have barely just met and know not at all. Where is this comfort coming from? And is it just me feeling that? Have I made him feel awkward in anyway?

"Oh. Okay." 

We went right back into our silence and read next to eachother till the sun started setting and people began to leave the library. 

I wanted to apologize for talking so much but really I had nothing to say. I just hoped he knew I was sorry. I was. "Kenma-san." 

I felt like I might have jumped at his words. "Yes?" He was still reading his book when he spoke next.

He looked as if he was choosing his next words with utter precision as he studied my face. "Have you ever read Middle March?" I shook my head and he continued on beat. "It's by George Eliot. He said 'What do we live for, if it's not to make life less difficult to each other?' That made me think of you. You might like it." And I know why I do not understand him.

How odd. To recommend a book with a quote like that to someone you've never met. Who says something like that? Why am I so intrigued because of that? He's incredibly odd and stoic and I want to know why he said what he did. "Why would I like it?" Why would you tell me about it?

I don't believe he even knew what he was doing suggesting me a book. That inferred that we might meet again and speak about it. Though... he thought about me when he read the book or heard the quote and that gives me a need to know why. "I think the way he talks about loss is interesting. You look like the type of person to understand complicated sentences and divine literature. It's just a suggestion." The type of person to understand divine literature. What an odd compliment. He did call me intelligent indirectly. I don't know how to feel about being called something like that... but if he enjoys to read then it must mean something nice. He said it so straight faced though.

"Oh. Thank you then. I might look for it then." 

"If you do. Tell me what you think." 

"Okay." The book did indeed talk about loss in a way I remember fully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Keiji Pov**

The next time I saw him was not at the library. He was sitting legs close to his chest on a bench playing on what I believe is a psp. An odd place for us to meet, the park. 

Looking at him closer he seemed to be shivering slightly. It made me wonder why in fact he had not ventured inside or somewhere warmer. "Kenma-san you look cold." He did have a jacket on but not one meant for this kind of weather, one for aesthetic and fashion purposes most likely. Though, to me, he did not seem like the type to do anything to impress others, not even dress up. Comfort seemed to be his main goal.

So as I ventured closer I wondered why exactly he might be outside if he was the type to lock himself away and enjoy himself like that. He broke eye contact with his game to glance at me. "I didn't intend to be but the weather lied." What would Kenma-san gain from being cold out here in a place where people (like myself) might talk to him.

I almost made the mistake of sitting down next to him before deciding it better to ask. I myself would have felt uncomfortable if there had been no warning to an action like that. "Of course. Can I sit?" I motioned next to him. He took his eyes off of his game and kept them on me. He was no longer watching the screen. When I looked to his device and it seemed to be paused.

I brought my eyes to his and we held our contact till he spoke. "Yes." He was not searching for words. I believe he knew what he was going to say. Rather he was watching me for any indication of why I might have come over, asked to sit or began our interaction at all. 

For an introvert I seem to be quite in need of his company. And that might just be because I, in fact do not have friends. There is no legitimate reason to that as far as I can see. I've just never had an interaction that has led to that. And up until now that was absolutely okay with me. I could have spent my whole life alone and I might have been okay with that. I was perfectly content living with my grandmother and speaking to only her and the librarian on occasion. To me that seemed pleasant... but Kenma. Why is it different when I look at you and want to know what makes you so sad? Have I lost my mind? Why am I so concerned with you? I'm sure you aren't special. In fact I'm positive you aren't. Yet I watch you far too carefully for someone uninterested in being friends. 

I took the seat next to him and I remained staring, spellbound to his golden eyes. "Do you come to the park often? I haven't seen you before." I hadn't seen him before because I am positive he does not come here. In fact, if he were to tell me he did in fact frequent at the park I most certainly would not believe him. Kenma was not one to come to such a place. Neither was I, save for one specific reason.

We stay eyes locked on the others and it was hard to break that contact. Maybe it should not have been. Maybe I should have needed to look away first but I could not do a thing but stare. "I do not come at all. I was told you did though." He was told?

Who do I speak to that knows I come to the park? I'm sure I speak to no one. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." I'm sure at school and everywhere else I stay silent as possible. Might I even have an exception to that rule?

There is one person, though I wasn't sure Kenma was the kind of person to go out of his way to make conversation. "I came to the library this morning. I looked for you and the librarian told me you'd be here. She said something about you frequenting here on mornings." Had he really spoken to the librarian? That seems too entirely out of character and yet that seems to be a theme with us. He and I are both entirely out of character with eachother and I haven't decided how I might feel about that.

Though he came to see me and I came to see the park I feel one of us is not getting what they want. "I do come here in the morning." As many mornings as I can, I come here.

He pushed himself to look away. To look onto the scenery away from my eyes. "Why?" And with that I could speak freely. Without his eyes looking deep into my own I could tell him all I meant and had wanted to say.

So I spoke, bringing my eyes from him to my hands covered in black gloves that I was glad to have worn as it felt increasingly more cold. Kenma had not taken such a precaution and I had noticed his knuckles to be reddening. "Did you know that in the morning they play music? I think I might be the only one that comes but by the bridge on the other side there's this gazebo and they play old music every morning. I don't know why but it's the only set of speakers in the park that plays it. The gazebo has a view of the water and it's calm. So I go there and I read." I've done it once more. I've told him more than necessary and maybe that's because I feel connected to him in some spellbound and necessary way or maybe I simply do not have anyone else to tell. 

Regardless of why I told him he responded to me exactly how I might have expected. "How romantic." I might have thought he wanted me to stop talking if he had not come here looking for me. Why had he done that?

He believed that my mornings were romantic or picturesque. If that was true then maybe I was doing something correctly. "Maybe. I think I'd like to live my life like that." I'd like to live as if my life were a book written romantically and tragically and all in all for me. If it was seen like that then the length of my book didn't matter.

"Okay." 

He had not wanted to talk about things like this, though I could see when I peaked at his face that he didn't mind. No Kenma Kozume seemed completely unbothered by my speaking to him in the way I had been. Was that right, for him to take all I said without hesitation? I wouldn't have even known if it was an awkward thing to say in that moment because he looked the same as before just in deeper thought. "You came to see me?" And yet maybe it was okay because he was here for me.

Kenma finally brought his eyes back up to look at mine. "You came to see the gazebo." I had come to see the gazebo. Yes, and as I thought and spoke I felt further and further away from that goal.

Is Kenma the kind of person to enjoy sound and scenery for no other reason than the calming sense of it all? I wouldn't know. "Would you like to go with me?" Would he even enjoy something like this?

I felt so concerned with what he wanted that I had barely taken notice of his slightly upturned lips at my question. "I can tell you why I came if you show me." Was he teasing me? What had I said?

"Okay." 

I'll show Kenma the gazebo. He followed me as I stood up and onto the path. "You do that a lot. You talk about something without consequence and then you're blunt." I talk without consequence? Maybe, I think I've just said all I'm thinking and now I have nothing to say.

I spoke easily with him however and that was new in my mind. "I just don't have anything to say." I don't know if he minds the silence. When he stops speaking, to me the silence is loud and the conversation continues. I wonder if he feels that too.

"Is that true?" I wonder if he'd tell me even if it was true. Is he as blunt as I picture him in my head.

I truly have a hard time with saying things aloud. I think it'd be easier to have friends if they just knew what I was thinking all the time. "I don't have anything to say I don't think you already know." Kenma might be easy to be friends with for me. 

He knows things. "I can't tell what you're thinking." He seemed frustrated with that and yet as true as it was it entirely wasn't. Kenma could tell what I meant to say when I stopped talking and that, at least right now, was enough.

"I know." 

We had gotten to the Gazebo and stopped in front of it to take it all in. He looked it up and down. The music had not yet started and we heard the soft sound leak through the air of the violins beginning. It was somehow more enthralling while Kenma was here. "It's why I'm here." He's come to learn my mind then? 

I'm afraid that I don't even know how to communicate my entire thoughts to him. "Because you don't know what I'm thinking?" 

"Because you're interesting."


End file.
